


Hate Isn't Strong Enough

by foundmyhome



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas Eve, F/M, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundmyhome/pseuds/foundmyhome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma has news to share with her best friends and she's going to tell them- even if the obnoxious Killian Jones has tagged along to her yearly Christmas party. Killian's strong reaction surprises her, prompting a conversation that has Emma reevaluating what she has always assumed to be hate at first sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate Isn't Strong Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ihearttvsnark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihearttvsnark/gifts).



> Hello! Thanks so much for reading. This oneshot was written for the always incredible ihearttvsnark during the 2014 Captain Swan Secret Santa! Leave any notes in the reviews! Thanks!

Emma Swan was a nice, mature woman. She had already went through the years of being a petty, whining teenager and, sure, she had been really good at it. She mastered the woe is me facial expressions, the minimalistic speaking, the heavy eyeliner-- really, Emma made a great bratty adolescent.

But she was over that. Emma was nicer now. She smiled at strangers and offered to help when friends were moving apartments. She made pleasantries in grocery store lines and never tried to short change anyone. She even bought a casserole gave it to the old woman whose husband died unexpectedly.

Because of this growth, because of how Emma prided herself on going with the flow and keeping a polite mask on in most situations, she wasn’t proud of what she did when she opened her door to find Killian Jones grinning on the other side.

“Happy Christmas, Swan!” 

She slammed the door shut.

Emma bit back the groan that was growing in her throat. She hated Killian Jones with a passion. Much like her best friend Mary Margaret believed in love at first sight, Emma knew that hate at first sight existed. She had felt it, hot and bubbling and constant, ever since she first laid eyes on that stupid man.

Despite this, he remained a permanent part of her life. Really, she had no one to blame for this unfortunate occurrence but herself. It was a simple cause and effect issue that she couldn’t seem to break. Emma dragged Mary Margaret everywhere; Mary Margaret, who had been Emma’s best friend since the day she stepped into Storybrooke, always dragged her boyfriend, David Nolan, with them; and, without fail, David dragged his best friend, the blasted idiot Killian, everywhere. If Emma loosened up on her codependency with Mary Margaret, maybe she wouldn’t find the british moron at every turn.

There was a knock on the other side of the door. Killian’s obnoxious pounding accompanied it, but Emma ignored it in favor of the timid rapping, which she could only assume belonged to her best friend.

Taking a deep breath, Emma opened the door. Killian stood front and center, grinning, holding a metal tin. She attempted not to glare at them and stepped aside, allowing him to enter. Mary Margaret, wearing an apologetic smile, followed, David’s hand in hers.

“Emma, I hope you don’t mind I brought David.”

Emma rolled her eyes. They all knew what Mary Margaret is actually apologizing for. Glancing at Killian, she sighed. “Don’t worry about it. David, you know you’re welcome here anytime.”

David smiled, dropping the bag by her Christmas tree. “Presents,” he told her, before rushing off to the kitchen. Mary Margaret fussed with Emma’s curls, fluffing them out.

Killian dropped to the couch, grinning. Emma fought the growl buried in her chest, flopping into the arm chair. Let David sit by his precious moron, she thought.

David, of course, did just that. He returned from the kitchen, four glasses and a bottle of champagne in his hands. Mary Margaret grabbed the glasses from him and together they poured them all glasses.

“What’s in the tin?” Emma blurted, glaring at Killian. He was clutching it so closely to his chest that Emma assumed it was something horrifying.

He looked up, grinning. “I made a fruit cake!”

Emma frowned. “That’s disgusting.” Killian shrugged, looking no less pleased, while Mary Margaret assured him that it wouldn’t be nearly as disgusting as she thought.

“So, Emma.” David nudged Killian until he was sitting closest to Emma’ chair, so that David could sit between him and Mary Margaret. “Why did we push the party to today?”

Emma felt her cheeks heat up. It was an innocent enough question; the three of them- she ignored the bitter voice reminding her that lately it had been the four- always celebrated the major holidays together. Mary Margaret’s parents had both died when she was younger, and as soon as she heard about Emma’s childhood, bouncing from foster home to foster home, she vowed to never let Emma spend another holiday alone. Although David is close with his mother, he preferred to spend his time with Mary Margaret and, by extension, Emma.

But this year, Emma asked to move the party up to Christmas Eve. She offered no explanation and her friends didn’t ask for one.

“It’s, well.” She glanced between her friends, worried. It seemed silly. It seemed like a mistake to tell them, when she wasn’t sure how it was going to pan out. It seemed like a mistake to tell them at all.

Suddenly, Emma’s panicked. Mary Margaret and David were the only family she had ever had; what was she going to do if they couldn’t take it? If they couldn’t take this new broken piece about her? Mary Margaret shouldered so much of Emma’s fucked up past; what if this piece, that Emma had never shared before, proved to be too much?   
“Oh, c’mon, Swan. What is the problem, kitten?” Killian took a long pull from his glass, arms spread wide over the back of her couch, smirking like he owns the place. His tongue peaked out between pink lips, licking in an obscene fashion. 

Emma grit her teeth. “Nothing that concerns you.” He laughed, loud and boisterous, and Emma would have rather punch him in the face then sit in the same room as him for another second.

“Come on now, Swan. Don’t tell me you don’t want to share.”

Mary Margaret swatted at Killian’s shoulder. “Shush, you.” She leaned across the boys to grab Emma’s hands and smiled encouragingly. “Don’t let him bother you. What were you saying?”

Emma closed her eyes. “I was invited to a Christmas dinner tomorrow.”

The room was silent. Emma opened one eye, peaking at the three of them. They wore matching shocked faces. David broke first.

“That’s wonderful, Emma!” Emma’s shoulders relaxed a little and she offered a small smile. 

Mary Margaret shook her head, the surprise falling from her expression. “Oh, yes! Emma, that’s great! Who is it?”

Killian took another drink, draining the glass. “Yes, Swan. Who is it?” His voice was rougher and Emma’s stomach dropped. The only reason for him to sound that angry was if he knew. He had always been able to read her; it was one of his most insufferable traits. He couldn’t know the truth, not all of it, but he knew it was not as innocent as a date, like Mary Margaret most likely assumed.

“Is it a date?” Mary Margaret squealed. Emma laughed.

“No, not at all.” She paused, before shrugging. “Well, actually, kind of.”

“I’m going to get another drink,” Killian interrupted

David quickly pulled him back down. “Here, man.” He grabbed the bottle from the table and topped off Killian’s drink, before turning to Emma. “So, tell us!”  
 Emma’s throat closed. She poured the rest of her champagne down her throat then snatched Killian’s out of his hand to do the same. Surprisingly, he raised an eyebrow but otherwise remained silent. Now or never, Swan. “I was invited to dinner.”

“Right! By who?” David prompted; his encouraging smile was almost as painful as Mary Margaret’s.

Emma swallowed and looked at Killian. His face was guarded but it was easier to handle than her best friends. “My son.”

This time, Emma wished there was silence.

Mary Margaret was a mess, firing questions so quickly Emma couldn’t understand them, let alone answer them. David was making an odd sound, like he was gasping for air, which Emma could oddly relate to. She’d always felt closer to David, in a familial way that was separate from the friendship she shared with Mary Margaret. She felt guilty that she hid this from him for so many years.

But it was not their responses, the responses of her family, that surprised Emma; it was Killian’s.

“Shut up!” He snapped, holding a hand up in front of David. “Be quiet right now!” Mary Margaret’s sputtering slowed before stopping, both she and David gazed questioningly at his fierce expression.

Killian grabbed the champagne off the table, almost violently. He poured the liquid quickly into the glass still in Emma’s hand. He glanced at David, before turning back towards her. “Let the lass talk.”

“But Emma doesn’t have a kid!” Mary Margaret exclaimed.

Killian put the bottle back onto the table. Softly, he grabbed Emma’s hands between his own. “I don’t suppose that is entirely accurate, is it, Swan?”

Emma could barely believe that this is the same guy who borrowed all her Law & Order DVDs and returned them scratched and stained; the same guy who has crashed not only her Christmas, but birthdays, parties, weddings, and- on one painfully memorable occasion- a funeral. This guy, silencing her parental best friends and looking at her softly, barely resembled the man that she hated.

Emma pulled her hand out of his and sighed. “I don’t have a kid. I just, well, I had one.”

If it was possible, her friends looked more confused. She turned to Mary Margaret, who she hoped would understand. “Do you remember about Phoenix? The, um. The time I did in jail?” Her voice hitched on the last word, but she spit it out. Killian’s eyebrows shot to his forehead, but David and Mary Margaret nodded, unfazed.

And then, even though it was the last thing she wanted to think about during Christmas, she told them. She told them about Neal, about her yellow bug, about Tallahassee. She told them about the necklace she kept tight around her throat and the life she was going to build with him. She told them about the watches, about waiting, about realizing. When her voice was hoarse and Mary Margaret is crying, she told them about Henry.

One of David’s arms was wrapped around his girlfriend’s shoulders, his other stretched out to hold Emma’s hands in his fist. Killian, who remained uncharacteristically silent throughout her story, stood up.

Abruptly, he stormed out of the room. Emma briefly entertained the idea of following him, but when she saw David’s devastated expression and the fury etched onto Mary Margaret’s face, she stays put.

“I’m sorry,” she offered. David let out of a puff of air, that she thought was maybe a laugh.

He opened his mouth to respond, but a loud crashing, a deep bang, and then a growled “Bloody hell!” interrupted. Emma and David jumped up, but she held her hand up. “Let me, David.” 

Emma went into her kitchen and glared at Killian. He stood fuming against the fridge, his own glare focused on the shattered coffee pot and dent in her wall. “What the hell, Jones?”

His head shot up and Emma took a step forward. He stared at her, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. “I’m sorry, love.” It was the first time she could remember him calling her that in a way that’s not completely obnoxious. “I’ll pay for the damages, of course.”

“Bet your ass you will.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he repeated.

Emma walked closer, closing the kitchen door behind her. She leaned against the sink, crossing her arms. “For someone who barely likes me, you seem pretty pissed I had a kid.”

Killian frowned, drooping his head closer to her. “You think I’m upset you had a chid?” His eyes were wide. “You think I barely like you?”

Emma shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

“Swan, I don’t dislike you. Bloody hell, I lo- like you. We’re friends.”

Emma snorted. “Right, sure.”

He stared at her for a second, before grimacing softly and scratching behind his ear. “Right.”

They stand there in silence for a moment, Emma wondering if the coffee shop across the street will be open tomorrow because there’s no way in hell she’s going to be able to handle her kid’s adoptive parents if she doesn’t have some caffeine.

Killian pushed off the fridge and stood inches away from Emma, his eyes narrowed and mouth pulled down at the edges. “Actually, no.”

Emma smirked. “No? No we’re not friends?”  
 “No, you’re wrong.” Emma opened her mouth to respond but he silences her with a raised eyebrow. “We’re not friends. Because, damn it, Swan. You’re my family!”

“Family!” Emma couldn’t hide the shock in her voice. “We hate each other.”

He flinched, his head recoiling. Emma couldn’t help but feel bad for the hurt on his face. “Aye,” he agreed softly. “Perhaps you hate me, love.”

He turned around and dropped to his knees in front of the glass.

“Jones?” He didn’t respond. “Jones? Oh, come on, talk to me.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “About your lad?” 

“No,” Emma dropped to a chair, leaning her head against her palm. “About this family business.”

His hands hesitated over the pile of coffee pot parts. “It was nothing, Swan. A slip of the tongue.”

Emma nearly stood up, nearly agreed with him and returned to David and Mary Margaret. But she could still hear her best friend’s sobs and David’s murmured reassurance and she decided that Killian is the lesser of two evils. Besides, Emma never claimed to not be curious.

“Tell me, Jones.” He stubbornly refused to turn around. “Killian, please?”

He dropped what is in his hand and threw himself into the chair across from Emma. His eyes, a stupid blue color that Emma won’t admit draws her attention, caught hers. After seeing whatever it was he’s looking for, Killian closed them, swallowing hard.

“I thought you knew that. I thought that was why I’m always here, why I come to Christmas and your birthdays.”

“David invites you.”  
 Killian’s eyes popped open. “Aye, I suppose he does.”

“David’s your best friend. You always-- you. You hate me!”

“Emma. I could never hate you.” Killian scratched behind his ear again, pausing. “I... tell me more about your lad. How did you go from Phoenix to Christmas dinner?”

Emma leaned back in the chair, grabbing a bear claw from the box on the table. She had bought them for after dinner coffee, but the way her night is going, Emma doubted they’ll all make it that far. She offered one to Killian. “He called me a couple of weeks ago.”

“Your Henry?” He prompted, holding one of his hands in front of his face; Emma laughed at the attempt of decency.

“I can hear your full mouth.” She let out an unladylike snort when she saw his cheeks redden. She had never seen him blush before. “Yeah. His, um. His mother had gotten married and he was feeling, I don’t know, maybe lonely? Anyway, I guess the mom’s husband convinced her that I could help.”

Killian nodded, swallowing heavily before speaking. “And do you think you will?”

Emma frowned, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Maybe. I’m not sure. I hope so.”

“Do you regret it?”

Emma wanted to roll her eyes, tell him that’s a rude question, shrug him away; but Killian had always been the most annoying person in her life for a reason: he inexplicably knew her better than anyone.

“Never.” She answered honestly. He nodded, as if in understanding, which Emma didn’t doubt. She sighed and grabbed his hand. His head shot up and he cocked his head. Just as honestly as before, Emma breathed out: “And every damn day since.”

He ran his thumb across her knuckles, a small comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. She couldn’t talk about him anymore, her son who maybe needed her. “Why did you break my coffee pot?”

Killian’s free hand raised to his mouth, his thumb swiping over his bottom lip. “I hadn’t-- I hadn’t known about your past.”

“Why do you care?” Emma knew that they were sort of friends. And while she often wanted to break things when he was around, it wasn’t usually because she got upset for him.

His fingers clenched around hers, quickly, before he dropped her hand all together. “I hadn’t realized that my behavior made it seem like I didn’t care about you.”

“We fight all the time, Jones.” She pointed out.

Killian’s tongue ran across his lips and Emma studiously ignored it. “I had seen it as banter.”

“Miscommunication,” she muttered. He made a huffing noise of agreement and she glanced back at the coffee pot. “Still don’t see why you had to go around breaking things.”

“I’m not particularly comfortable with the idea of you being hurt, Swan.”

“And you thought modern technology was to blame?”

“I thought that bloody bastard was to blame. The coffee pot was just closer.”

Emma doesn’t know how he did it; how he always said the right thing. Usually, he used this power in saying the exact thing necessary to piss her off. He annoyed her perfectly. They made wonderful enemies. She was beginning to think they’d make perfect friends.

Or, her traitorous mind thought, perfect family.

The thought made her spine tingle and she blurted out the first thing that comes to mind. “You ruined my Lost DVDs!”

Killian laughed. “I said I was sorry!”

“Sorry doesn’t replace me never seeing the ending!”

“Emma, I swear I’ll get you new DVDs.”

“Not the same, Jones.”

“Nothing is, Swan.”

Emma grinned, shoving the rest of the bear claw into her mouth.

Killian rolled his eyes. “Attractive.”

After swallowing roughly, Emma stuck out her tongue.

“You are insufferable.”

“Pain in the ass,” she agreed, nodding.

There was a loud sob from the other side of the wall and Emma groaned. “We should probably go deal with that.”

“Aye,” Killian stood, offering her his hand. “We might need something stronger than champagne if you want David to stop smothering you.”

Emma was surprised at the sudden laugh that burst through her. “He is rather motherly, isn’t he?” They headed towards the door, Emma pushing it open.

Killian grinned. “Oh, you noticed too? And to think, he’s going to be married to actual mother Snow White,” he joked.

“She hates it when we compare her to Snow Wh-” Emma spun around, slamming the door shut. “Did you say married? Is David proposing?”

Killian’s mouth fell open and he clenched his eyes shut. “Can we please pretend like that never happened?”

“Oh my God! When? Killian!”

“Swan, I swear to the gods, if you don’t be quiet right now-”

“I am so going to plan the bachelorette party and-”

“Swan, please shut up!”

 

#fin


End file.
